nonsense, says
this to me. Just listen. 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning
about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now
too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace.
Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak."

"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late."

"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not
too late for you to know what you have lost."

"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other
reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day."
And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid
her face on them.

Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's
arm.

"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be
harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for
what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to
his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him,
though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her
is in your very hand! _I_ was bad enough--but I had no such love as
Maurice's to leave behind me."

Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand
flashed.

"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked.

"Maurice's ring. _He_ was not so hard on me."

"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her
side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways."

But Lucia had found power to speak at last.

"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be
supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of
so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and
showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very
much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go
on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her."

The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a
faint quiver in her voice.

"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly.

"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge
of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose
between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?"

Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been
dreamin